Beyond Birthday was Never Average
by BeyondAverage
Summary: Beyond Birthday have never been ordinary in any sort of way. His behaviour prooved this, even in his youth. This is the story of how BB got passionately obsessed with anatomy and experiementing on living beings. It also tells a bit of his childhood and what he usually used to do.


**A/N:** **I would like to inform you that this is T rated since it contains a tad bit of violence and gore. If you do not find this appropriate for you then you must leave this instant. Unfortunately; you read on your own risk. Take my warning to consideration if you are not certain if you would get traumatized by reading the following document. Thank you!**

**This was written on my phone when I was home, ill, and was feeling quite bored. It has not been checked by anybody else except for myself, therefor; there might be some mistakes within the text. **

**Since I am so passionately interested in BB I decided to write my theory of how his childhood could have been, in my mind at least. I know that many have tried this but I wanted to test it for myself to see how far I could take my writing skills. **

**I think the result came out quite nicely. Of course, you don't have to agree. Reviews are very much appreciated.**

**This is ****_not_**** my first fan fiction but it is on this website. If you wish to find other work of mine, pay me a visit on DeviantArt; ****_HeartOfSlytherin_****. I would gladly accept a request from you, if you like what I write.**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own anything. Don't sue me, please?**

**I**t was an ordinary day, equally normal as any other of all the 365 days of the year, when a small boy with messy black hair ran around at the very front of an old house with antique architecture. He was laughing and smiling while he pretended to be a flying airplane, his arms stretched out to his sides as he made random patterns on the asphalt with his movements. But suddenly; the boy fell to the ground. He winced and sat up, gazing at the bright red color that was slowly painting his hands and knees. He examined the liquid with big eyes, stunned in fascination.

Normally when a young child fell and bled it would call out to its parent or cry but this particular child did not do anything of the sort. He was frozen to the very spot just to stare at his new discovery. _How pretty_, he thought and smiled absently. _Why have I never seen this before?_

But soon his dearest mother came rushing towards him, worried, as she had noticed the odd substance dripping to the ground. She grasped him into her warm embrace and looked at her son, who did not seem disturbed by the scene.

"Mom! Look! Isn't it pretty?" The boy showed her his hands, crimson eyes glistening in the sunlight with a wide smile touching the edges of his small innocent mouth.

"No, no sweetheart. It isn't pretty at all. Come inside and let mommie clean the wounds and dry the blood away."

The small boy frowned in confusion, struggling to let himself free from his mother and her words towards his discovery.

"No! It is pretty! I don't want it to go away! Please don't take it away mommie!"

"But sweetheart !" She tries but avail. Her son was stubborn and refused anything beyond his wishes and desires. He wanted things his way so she let him. What kind of mother would she be if she denied him what he wanted? She shook her head and went back inside the house, knowing her boy would return sooner or later. Did she worry for his welfare? Yes. Did she like waiting without being certain of anything? Not at all. But she accepted her son either way, even though his furiously red eyes sent shivers down her spine in pure fear and hatred.

The boy with his midnight stained hair, sickly pale skin and his terrifying crimson eyes ran away from his dearest mother, leaving her in shock at the house. He went to his favorite hideout, like he always did when he wanted to be alone and think.

It was an old storage space from the early 19th century with dusty, rotting grey walls and a black stone floor with all kinds of bugs and reptiles, both alive and dead ones, at certain spots. The boy had a few small shelves here, covered in books and supplies, but also a small refrigerator where he kept his favorite of treats; strawberry jam. He also had a few boxes of clothes and a small bed at the corner of the small premise.

He sat down on the bed and looked at his wounds. The red substance had dried a little and it put a slightly disappointed expression on his face. He therefore poked at it to make it shiny and pretty once more. His theory worked just the way he had imagined it would and be smiled. The liquid was rather interesting and it made him want to see more of it, examine it further in detail.

If his body had the ability to produce something so beautiful, was it possible for other beings as well? But to investigate his hypotheses he needed something to try on. The small child instantly remembered the dog that lived here and smiled. It would most definitely work properly, would it not?

The child in hair as black as midnight walked over to his shelves, dug around his stores objects and found just the thing of his interest.

It was a sharp blade he had taken from the playground one day when he had been exploring. It had been shining wonderfully and he just had to have it. Without hesitation he grabbed it in his hand and ran off to his storage space where he planned to safely keep it away from the rest of the world.

The boy grasped the object, flicked it between his fingers and made a stabbing movement into the nothingness. He grinned. The blade felt good as he fled it, like if he was meant for such a treasure.

Shortly after he called for the far too loyal and naïve little creature. It came instantly, swinging his tail and barking softly. The boy bent down on his knees, grabbed the dog from underneath its stomach and pulled it closer to his undeveloped frame. It made whimpering noises, sensing the danger and so it only took a quick but precise stab at the back of the creature for it to bark loudly at the sudden cold pain.

The boy did not pull the blade out, he simply pushed it deeper into the flesh and stared in pure fascination as the red liquid trickled down his fingers. Once the dog had died, only seconds after, he trailed pattern with his new toy to create amusing shapes and forms. The boy giggled at the sight. It was beyond average beauty and it was beyond anything he had ever experienced.

The child, who came to be known as _'Beyond Birthday_', did not feel regret or guilt when he purposely extinguished the life of that small, innocent creature. Neither did he stop experimenting. Unfortunately; it did not take long before he started to examine bigger objects. He killed beloved pets without remorse, stealing them directly from their homes and putting them into boxes. He didn't even care enough to bury his victims or mourn their deaths. He simply shrugged and tossed them to the side with a smirk on his face. The boy learnt new things of the anatomy each day that followed, loosing himself further and further and not caring about anything beside his growing obsession with intestines and weapons.

And as the day came when his parents died he let a tear slip from his eye, missing them deeply. He quickly put it behind himself as something unimportant and began exploring his newfound persona in the care by the orphanage for potential successors of the great detective L; the Wammy's House.


End file.
